For the Life of Sirius Black
by Black-Alice
Summary: Dark fic. The Order receives news of Voldemorts plans involving the US. A young woman in America begins having a series of strange dreams. Harry Potter's life hangs in the balance. Please R
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: No Mine.

**The Youngest Death Eater**

The small interrogation room was lit by one lone lamp. Its harsh yellow light seared down on the drooping head of the prisoner. The smell of water and damp pervaded the room and an air of suffocation hung in the atmosphere. Despair lurked in the corners of the cell, creeping around the circle of light, kept in check by the foreign beams of its greatest enemy. Draco Malfoy stared blankly at the dirt incrusted floor, the empty grey eyes a veil for the desperate workings of the brain behind them. He wouldn't let them see his true feelings, he could keep them out if he wanted; he just needed to stay focused.

A door swung open and two ghostly figures drifted into the room, wands lit with pinpoints of illumination. As the door sighed shut behind them, one figure cloaked completely in black, remained in the deepest shadow as the smaller, slighter man moved into the sphere of light.

"Are you ready to talk Draco?" Lupin's voice was deceptively soft, "We're ready to listen to anything you might tell us."

"I've nothing to say to you," Draco growled out, "We've gone over this day in and day out for three weeks. I refuse to speak."

"Are you certain of that, Draco?"

"Yes."

"I don't think you are," Remus crouched down till grey eyes glared into brown, "I don't think you're certain about anything anymore. You don't know if its day or night right now and you said you were here for three weeks? How do you know it's been three weeks?"

Draco said nothing but pulled his eyes away from Remus.

"You see, Draco, all certainty is slipping away from you here. And who has come to save you? You're father? Another Death Eater? No one. Consider it, Draco. All this time and we've not had no attack on us to bring you back home."

"Voldemort knows I won't break," Draco hissed, "He knows I don't need rescuing."

"So you tell yourself, but how much do you really believe that?" Remus challenged. He moved his wand to tap lightly against the Dark Mark spoiling Draco's forearm, "Do you believe that the one who gave you this really cares what happens to you?"

"I won't listen to anymore of this!" Draco's head snapped up, "You're just worried because I haven't given you anything. All this time and you haven't gotten a word out of me. Well, I have news for you, werewolf, I'm not telling you anything. If you're going to leave me here to rot, let me rot. But stop coming back here to try and convince me that I'm not one of them. I am! I chose to be one of them and so I'll bear any punishment you care to meet out!"

"Even death?" Remus all but whispered.

Draco scoffed, "I'm not afraid of death."

Remus felt the blood run cold in his veins at the young Death Eater's arrogance. There would be no more arguing with the youthful fanatic. Standing slowly to his feet, Remus stared down at the rebellious, upturned face of his former pupil. For a moment, Draco saw sympathy flash in the large brown eyes of Remus Lupin only to see it covered with hard truth and steely resolve.

Turning half toward the door, he called, "Professor Snape?"

The black figure, silent till now, advanced to the circle of yellow and halted just shy of the illuminating band. Draco sneered, his lips curling against his teeth as hatred erupted in his heart, "So you've turned tail have you, Snape? What? Changed coats when the Potter brat was born? Or were you never one of the true color?"

Wordlessly, Snape handed a bottle to Remus who accepted it so Draco could see the sheen of the fluid in the turn of the light. His defiant gaze faltered briefly before he forced a harsh laugh to his lips.

"Turned to making potions for the Mudbloods have you?" he jeered, "Do you honestly think that veritaserum is going to work on me?" His grey eyes stabbed into the darkness where Snape's face was obscured, "You taught me how to fight it remember?"

"I assure you that we are aware of your Occulmency abilities, Mr. Malfoy," Remus said his voice growing colder and address formal, "But as you yourself know, Professor Snape is able to brew potions never before used or tested on in the general public."

Draco said nothing but Remus had seen the spark of apprehension in his eyes for a spit second, "I—" he stopped and his lips formed a thin line, "Do your worst."

Remus stepped forward and removed the stopper from the crystal vial. The veritaserum gleamed under the yellow light. The familiar aroma drifted across to the Malfoy heir and it brought back memories of potions class, Hogwarts and times before there were Death Eaters and his world was filled with enemies. But then, Draco's face hardened, then Snape had been an ally.

"Draco?" Remus prompted, "I don't want to use the Imperious on you."

"Why I should be worried about your moral peace is beyond me," Draco snarled, "But it's going to happen either way so why should I care?"

He opened his mouth and Remus brought the bottle to his lips. Just as the first drop was hovering on the edge of the vial's lip, Snape's arm shot out and caught Remus's as the werewolf made to tip the fluid down Draco's throat. Seeing this, Draco suddenly rocked forward jostling the men's arms and causing the veritaserum to splash over Draco's lips, teeth and tongue, dripping down his stubble covered chin onto his ragged shirt.

Snape and Lupin fell back, each drawing their wands on Draco as the Death Eater shuddered several times. He gave a ghastly choking laugh and raised his furious gaze to theirs'.

"Almost won there, Snape," he rasped, "But I'm not about to go out as a traitor."

"What is it?" Remus demanded as the potions master stooped over Draco, examining his pupils and feeling for his pulse.

"I am not sure," Snape replied, "My guess is something that will react with the veritaserum to cause death."

"Is there an antidote?' Lupin asked quickly.

'We've no time for that now," Snape barked. Grabbing a handful of Draco's hair, he brought his face square with his, "Tell me, what is the Dark Lord planning?"

Dazed by the effects of the potion, Draco's eyes roaming aimlessly for a moment before being captured by Snape's; "The Death Eaters are looking for a Muggle. A Mudblood the Dark Lord can use for his purposes."

"What are his purposes?" Snape demanded next. Draco was rapidly slipping away there was scant minutes before he would be dead at their feet.

"He wants to—Potter—kill him—the Muggle can help," Draco's words were slurring together, "In America—spotted by accident—"

"Why does he want this American?" Snape slapped Draco hard and focused his eyes again on his own black orbs, "Why?"

"Channeler," the young Malfoy mumbled, "Sirius Black—channeled."

"Where is this muggle?" Remus cut in.

"Don't know—going to search—"

"Give us a name, Draco, what is the Muggle's name?" Remus shouted.

"Don't know."

"You're lying, "Snape said, "What is the muggle's name?"

"Is it a woman or a man?" interjected the werewolf.

For an instant Draco rallied and his defiance returned brightly, "A boy, a little boy like Harry Potter."

Then he jerked from under Snape's hands, his head lolling back as convulsions took over his body. The chair fell back as his body twitched and the two wizards could only watch in silence as the poison finished its deadly work in the young man's frame. With a choking gasp, Draco's body slumped against the ground, his eyes seeing nothing beyond and his mouth open in shock. On his arm, the Dark Mark vanished leaving behind the pale, smooth skin of his childhood. The silence was painful.

"I'm sorry," Remus said.

Snape went to the body and closed the beautiful grey eyes for the last time. He stayed crouched beside the limp form for several long moments, his chin cupped in his hand, his eyes hidden by the black curtain of his hair. Remus felt suddenly, keenly aware of the close relationship the potions master and the young Death Eater had once shared. Teacher and student, one alive, one dead.

"What a waste," Snape snarled, "What a God damn waste."

"I'm sorry, Severus," Remus repeated, "I had no idea what would happen."

"I am sure that is what the Dark Lord intended," Snape said. With a flick of his wand the chair underneath Draco transfigured into a small cot and the cords binding Draco to it were transformed into a clean white sheet that folded itself over the body.

"Was there nothing we could have done to prevent it?"

"I doubt it. The Dark Lord has not been known for being half-hearted in anything he has done. I suspect that there is no antidote for whatever potion caused Mr. Malfoy's death. That way the Death Eaters would be even more motivated to elude capture."

"We'll have to contact the Ministry immediately," Remus moved toward the door only to be stopped by a hand on his arm. Snape's eyes burned into his.

"We have to stop the intentions of the Dark Lord first," Snape said, "We must act without reservation or hesitation. The Order must be alerted and gathered even before we tell the Ministry. For all we know the Death Eaters have found this muggle and are learning how to defeat Potter. We can't risk that."

Startled by the intensity on Snape's usually impassive face, Remus nodded, "I understand. I'll contact Harry and the DA. If we're faced with finding a single child in all of America then we're going to need all the help we can get."

Snape shook his head, "No. We're not looking for a boy."

"What?"

Snape allowed his eyes to rest on the sheet covered body of Draco Malfoy, "He lied. At the very last, he lied. He didn't betray them," Snape looked at Remus, "We're not looking for another Harry Potter; we're looking for a woman."

TBC


	2. First Contact

Disclaimer: Not Mine!

**Impervious Target**

Sweat was just appearing along Remus Lupin's temples when he walked into the cool interior of the massive bookstore called Borders. A gust of cool air plastered his graying hair to his head before easing into the quiet comfort of the American store. Everywhere stands and displays of books tempted the avid reader with hardbacks and soft backs, CDs and videos. Remus couldn't help but wonder about the muggle obsession with coffee, as he eyed the large sign that directed the customers toward the café.

He checked his pocket watch and saw that he had more than enough time to make contact with the target and the more naturally done the better. The werewolf had resisted the responsibility of being the first contact with the woman in question. He was older, he had argued, he was a man and he wasn't exactly the type to attract a woman. You don't have to attract her, they had said, just be friendly. Remus shook his head over their persuasions. He knew well enough that woman responded better to men they found attractive.

Still, if the target was going to be a problem she was going to be a problem. But if things went well, then it wouldn't matter what he looked or sounded like. Slight, he had always been slight; Remus couldn't help but express the air of a kindly, mildly pathetic bore. His hoarse, husky voice was reassuring, they had told him. He was perfect for the job. In the end, he admitted defeat.

Like any good spy, Remus made a slow and thorough circuit of the entire store, skillfully dodging the helpful employees and skirting the perimeter. If need be he would use the exits provided, but in a pinch appariting wouldn't be a problem. The only real difficulty was the fact that he hadn't laid eyes on the target since she had disappeared between the sliding glass doors.

Just as Remus was about to contact Harry and the other Order members stationed nearby, he saw her standing in the New Age section, her nose buried in a book. She was clutched a large book bag under one arm while keeping a bulging sketchpad in place with her other elbow. The book in her hands was entitled, "**Dreams and Their Meanings.**"

That was a good sign. She was curious; she was looking into what was happening to her. She was probably not going to run away from him if he spoke to her about Channeling. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Remus casually sauntered into the aisle. The effect was immediate. She jumped like a startled rabbit and hared out of the aisle so fast she nearly dropped the sketchpad. As it was several sheets of paper fell to the floor but she apparently didn't notice. Gathering them quickly, Remus peered around the corner to see her duck into the café. Good; at least she wasn't going anywhere soon.

Examining the papers in his hands, Remus felt his heart catch in his throat. On the top of the stack he had gathered was a drawing, crude and untalented, of Sirius Black! Despite the childishness of the drawing it was unmistakably Sirius. The hair was long and curling, the face handsome enough and shadowed by stubble. The button down shirt was open and the detailed tattooing covered his chest. Above and to the right of the head was the scrawling word, "Sirius," in feminine handwriting.

Standing quickly, Remus scanned the other drawings. They were all of Sirius in various moods and situations. She wasn't a good artist, but she was capturing the things about Sirius that made him unique. She was channeling, no doubt; whether she knew it or not was another story.

Reaching the café, Remus saw the target instantly. She wasn't very old, maybe mid-twenties or so. On the plumb side but no one got points for being thin. Her nose was buried in the book again, her eyes rapidly reading line after line, her lips compressed in concentration. Taking a seat on the opposite end of the café, Remus noted the dark circles under her eyes and realized she wasn't getting much sleep. If Draco had been telling the truth, she was a muggle; a muggle who was channeling Sirius Black. She wouldn't be feeling the best.

Remus watched as she flipped from page to page, scribbling things down on a napkin and chewing the end of her pen thoughtfully. She didn't look like an ordinary muggle, he thought. She was wearing a thin black scarf over her hair and her hair was long down her back in a way that was not fashionable in the muggle world. She wore no makeup or jewelry and unlike the other women in the café, she was wearing a long skirt and concealing t-shirt. Religious, he concluded, she came from a religious background.

That was unfortunate. Remus had found over the years that religious people were the most adverse to accepting magic or the magical world. For some reason they were sure that magic led to evil by default. In the minds of most religious people Remus knew, evil and magic were interchangeable words. That, regardless of her problems, could make working with the target more difficult than ever.

A new surge of customers came into the café at that moment and Remus decided it was best to approach her now. He stood and ambled over to her table, the pictures held out like a peace offering. In the jostle of people finding seats and tables, she didn't look up until he uttered a polite but not so subtle cough. Just like before, she jumped like a startled deer and snapped the book shut with guilty speed.

"Uhm, hello," he said calmly, "I was just wondering if these mightn't belong to you? I found them over near the reference books and no one seems to know who they belong to."

Covering her flaming cheeks, she blinked, "Oh? Uh, yes. Yes, they are as a matter of fact. I must have—uh—dropped them." She fumbled with her sketchpad and found it empty.

"Good, I was afraid that some poor artist was going to go home and discover they had lost all their character studies," Remus said, "Are you an art student?"

"Me? Oh no, not in the least," she laughed nervously and quickly hide the drawings in the pad, "I was just fooling around and that's the result."

She looked at him with the expression of one who wishes you would go away, but Remus pretended to ignore it; smiling instead and carrying on the conversation.

"I see you're reading a book on divination," he observed, "The secret realm of dreams."

She looked panicked but answered, "Sort of—I mean, not really. I—why don't you sit down?"

The invitation was more one to deflect attention than because she really wanted to speak to him, Remus realized. Sliding into the chair across from her, Remus saw a reflection in the picture behind her head of Harry, Ron and Hermione casually perusing the shelves directly outside the café. It they kept their distance there wouldn't be a problem but if Ron didn't stop staring at them with his mouth open she might notice something was up.

"I'm Kiarán by the way," she said offering her hand.

Clasping it gently, Remus noted the way her eyes focused on the scars that peppered his fingers and lashed horizontally across the back of his palm. She pulled back first.

"My name is Remus," he said, "If the accent didn't give away, I'm from England."

She smiled, the nervousness fading slightly, "I thought so…I'm a bit of an Anglophile. Where are you from?"

"Here and there, we moved around a lot when I was a boy, so the accent is a bit of everything mashed together." He picked up the book she had discarded, "Finding what you wanted?"

"Oh, I wasn't looking seriously," she lied uneasily, "I was just—kinda seeing what it said about different stuff."

"Well, from what I see this looks like a lot of rubbish to me," he mused aloud as he scanned the introduction, "This isn't what real divination is about."

"Isn't it?" her brow furrowed and cleared as she asked too disinterestedly, "Do you know about—uh—dreams and that kind of thing?"

"As a matter of fact," Remus answered, "Not really. My interests were never heavily into the art of divination. It wasn't my cup of tea."

She smiled, relaxing slightly, "That's so British. I hope you don't mind my saying so but you have a lovely voice."

"Thank you," Remus was taken aback, "I don't think anyone has ever told me that before."

"Really? I think it's very interesting. I like accents and I've spent hours listening to books on tape just so I could hear the varieties of English accent."

"Have you?" Remus thought rapidly trying to find a way to bring the conversation back to dreams, "That's nice." Flipping open the book, Remus scanned the pages again, "What were you looking up?"

"Oh, just this and that," her fingers rested on the edge of the napkin and she moved toward him an inch, "It was more for fun than anything else. I don't really believe that dreams mean something. But sometimes—well, you know there are some dreams that seem more real than normal. Here, take a look and tell me what you think."

She shoved the napkin across the table and Remus turned it so he could read the words scribbled there. A neat little list ran down the napkin.

_Sirius_

_Dog Star_

_Boggart_

_Hiding _

_Draco?_

Remus felt excitement rise in his chest at the sight of the wording. He fingered his mustache briefly as he tried to remember the exact meaning these words conveyed. Thinking back to his years in Hogwarts, Remus cursed the time he had wasted with James, Peter and Sirius; he should have paid more attention than this wouldn't be so difficult.

"The last one is a name," Kiarán said breaking into his train of thought, "I had to look it up, it means dragon. And Sirius and the Dog Star are the same thing…a Boggart is—"

"A ghost," Remus finished for her, "I've had some experience with them."

"Really?" Kiarán sat back and began to weave her fingers together nervously, "I've never seen a ghost."

"They're not very frightening if you know how to deal with them," he answered lightly and leaned forward, "Now here is the best I can do on short notice. You mentioned that Sirius was a name and you're right; it's the name of the Dog Star. Now I know that dreaming of a dog is a good thing because it means that you have a companion who is loyal and true to you in every way. You know you can depend on this person, and you know they will defend you in a crisis."

Kiarán's eyes glowed at this, and she seemed to be matching this interruption to some memory. Gathering courage from this, Remus went on.

"Now, as to the hiding and the Boggart, can you tell me how these played out in your dream?"

"You-you promise not to laugh? It is a bit wonky, but—I was hiding in a kind of cupboard with a man…it's not what you think, we were just sitting there with our backs to the wall…anyway, we were hiding and in my dream. Sirius, that was the man's name, told me that we had to wait for the Boggart to come to us," She wrapped her arms around her shoulders as if she was suddenly chilled, "I remember being very afraid of what was coming through the door, and I told Sirius."

''What did he say?" the werewolf held his breath.

"He said he was afraid too." She finished, "But I knew he was going to protect me anyway." She blinked and tried to smiled, "I guess it doesn't matter, it was just a dream. Besides, I looked up boggarts and they're just this harmless ghosts that steal bed sheets and touch you're face with cold, clammy hands—which is disgusting but not life threatening," Kiarán sat up straightened in her chair, "Right?"

"Typically," he nodded. He glanced as his pocket watch and pretended to be shocked at the time, "Is it really ten o'clock? Well, I have to be going! My pals went to the pub and will be expecting me to come pick them up any minute to get back to the hotel. I'm sorry to be rushing off like this, Kiarán, but I haven't much choice. Perhaps I could—uh—call you?"

"Okay,' she stood as he did.

He fumbled around in his pockets as if looking for his car keys. Subtly, he swiped the napkins she had written on and stuffed them into his breast pocket as if they belonged to him. Kiarán didn't notice.

Taking her hand in his, Remus shook it in the brusque American way he had learned, "Goodbye, Kiarán, I hope we meet again soon."

"Okay, yeah. It was nice to meet you too, Remus," she blushed and blurted out, 'If you don't mind will you not mention this to anyone because my family is –they're totally against this kind of things and I'd hate for it to get back to them."

He blinked nonplussed, "I don't know you're family."

She looked embarrassed, "Never mind," she dropped his hand, "You're right, I'm just paranoid. Goodbye."

She turned away as if shutting a door and Remus walked out into the main body of the store, picking up the trio as he processed toward the entrance. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't notice Kiarán running after him until he was halfway across the parking lot.

"Remus! Remus!" she hurried toward him, 'I thought you'd probably need this if you're going to call."

"Oh, of course, my mistake," the wizard suddenly felt the divide between the muggle and wizarding worlds. He took the slip of paper she offered and found a phone number listed on it. _**Kiarán James**_ was written above it, "James." He murmured softly, "How appropriate."

"I thought if might mean something to you," Kiarán whispered.

He looked up to thank her again but she was already walking back to the store, her long hair blowing around her shoulders like a cloud. If she wasn't a witch than she was something they had never before encountered. The fact that she was troubled about the use of magic was not a help, but the fact that she was the one they were looking for, rested heavily on his mind. She wouldn't understand the importance or the danger she created. As Harry, Ron and Hermione joined him, Remus tucked the number away.

"That was her?" Ron asked in disbelief, "Well; she's not much to look at anyhow. I think we've found the wrong person."

"I agree," Hermione said, "I couldn't find any spells, charms or even magical auras near or around her. She's just a random muggle, Remus. I think we have to go back to the starting point and see if we can't find someone else whose dreams are leaving channeling markers."

Remus was about to protest and offer his evidence to the contrary when Harry spoke up. He was leaning against the car, his shoulders hunched and his hair in his deep green eyes. There was a sullen and reluctant air about the young wizard when he spoke, strongly reminding Remus of the last Black heir.

"It's her," he said quietly, "I don't like it, but it's her."

"How do you know that, Harry, you can' tell just by looking at her." Hermione said tossing her hair over her shoulder, 'You have to use more than guess work."

"Give me a little more credit then that Hermione," he said. Looking to Remus he explained, "While you were taking to her I tried several charms on her, moving from harmless to deadly. I finished up with a curse."

"What?" Remus demanded

"Harry!" Hermione squeaked.

"I didn't see anything," Ron challenged, 'And I was right beside you the whole time. I didn't see a bloody thing!"

"I guess you wouldn't," Harry answered, 'Because they didn't work. Oh, they left my wand alright and I transfigured a few things in the store to be sure it was working, but they didn't have any effect on her."

"So you're saying that not only she is a muggle but she's…"

"Not influenced by enchantment," the young man answered, "Magic can't touch her. For all we know Kiarán James is completely impervious to the supernatural."


End file.
